Love is
by Funnykido
Summary: Love is. . . bittersweet, maddening, not worth it, frustrating, rewarding. "I wish that I could be one of those girls that you dream about, talk about with Harry, stare at in class, and are too afraid to talk to."
1. Default Chapter

Love is. . .

By: Funnykido

Ch. 1: Love is bittersweet

Ron,

This is the fifty-third letter I have written to you, late at night when the self-doubt and loneliness become too hard to bear. The fifty third letter that you will never see, because soon after I finish it, I will read it, all the while crying so much that my tears will pour down on the parchment making the letters and words will be barely recognizable. Then I will burn it. Throw it into the fire, and watch it curl up and the ashes float up the chimney into the wind, to be carried across the earth.

6 years ago approximately, I met a stumbling, bumbling, awkward red-headed boy. He thought I was a know it all, and needed to "get my priorities in check." He helped me. He showed me how to loosen up, how to have a good time. Most of all, he was my friend. No questions, no conditions, just unconditional friendship. Which he has continued today. Friendship. It's his eternal promise to me, to be my friend forever, and always be there for me. But not in the way I would like.

I sometimes detest ever meeting you. I wonder, if I had never befriended you, would I have survived that troll? Would I be as happy with other friends as happy as I am now with you, despite knowing you will never feel for me the way I feel for you? I sometimes despise your friendship. I look upon it as if it is something evil. I want to push you up against a wall and snog your brains out. If only for one second, until you push me off of you. But that one second, I would cherish for the rest of my life.

That one second, in which I would feel your lips on mine, I would remember it in the middle of the night when I am lying in bed alone, thinking back to you. Feeling sorry for myself, and wishing with all of my being that you had felt even a fraction of what I felt for you.

But I see you admiring other girls in the hallway. Girls with long legs and big chests. Girls who aren't afraid to show off what they've got. Girls who don't spend the majority of their time pestering people to study and sticking their noses in books. I hear you and Harry talking about other girls, and wishing I was anywhere but there, so I wouldn't have to hear you. So I wouldn't have to be reminded of how much I wish it was _me_ you were talking about. _Me_ that you watched. _Me_ that you were too afraid to go up and talk to.

I would give anything to be one of those girls. For I love you with all my heart. Now and forever you will be in my heart. You will _be_ my heart. You are my love.

A/N: OK, tell me how you like it! Reviews much appreciated!


	2. Love is oblivious

Love is. . .

Ch. 2: Oblivious

Harry was definitely worried about her. This was the third time _this week_ that Hermione had come downstairs to breakfast late and with deep dark circles under her eyes. This was _Hermione_ for gods sake. Hermione made sure to get at least eight hours of sleep a night, and set an alarm clock an hour earlier than she needed to get up just to make sure she was always on time!

So the fact that this tardiness was becoming a habit, was very much cause for worry.

Harry ran through a list of reasons in his mind that Hermione could possibly be late:

Indigestion? Possible, but not likely.  
Studying? Usually I would say yes, but we don't have any tests this week . . .  
Worry? Probably, but over what?

Stealing a quick glance over in her direction over the rim of his goblet, he saw her gazing longingly over at Ron, who was arguing animatedly with Seamus about quidditch.

Though imperceptible to anyone else, Harry would not be fooled. He'd known her for six years, and two of those years he'd known she liked, possibly loved Ron. He'd finally put two and two together in their fourth year when she had worried so much about Ron in the second task almost to the point of madness and when she had shouted the what-would-become-infamous statement, "Well you know what the solution to that is? Next time ask me before somebody else does, and not as a last resort!"

The silence that had echoed through the common room after they had both stormed out had been priceless. After all, it was a rare moment when Lavender had nothing to say!

Dean had finally broken it and said, "They're both so dense! They can't see what's right in front of them! It's obvious even to _me_ that they're in love, and they're _still_ oblivious to it!"

Lavender cut in with, "Yeah, I mean how many hints does Hermione have to give him?"

The next year Ron finally got off his arse and asked her and she had accepted. It would have been perfect, until a sixth year Hufflepuff asked Hermione to dance, and Ron flew off the handle. What ensued had been the argument to top all arguments.

They hadn't spoken for a _week_, the longest ever, and Harry had just been starting to get worried when they had walked into breakfast together talking and bickering like normal. Shaking his head, he had returned to his eggs.

Harry knew how much it hurt Hermione to have to listen them talk about girls almost endlessly, but Harry knew she would never leave during one of their discussions because it would look all too suspicious if she just walked away for seemingly no reason, and because it would hurt too much _not_ to know.

He also knew that Ron didn't even really _care_ about these girls, and he had a feeling he did it just to get a reaction out of Hermione.

But even after Hermione constantly put down whatever girl-of-the-week they were talking about, something she rarely did for anyone else, and even stormed out a handful of times, Ron was still completely oblivious to the fact that Hermione had feelings for him!

It was almost funny, the ways that both of them thought they were being subtle when they were stealing glances and dropping hints to the other, which in realty were heavy-lidded gazes that often lasted for minutes and nuclear bomb sized clues!

"Hey Hermione, what's this?" Ron asked, picking something up that lay between the fruit bowl and the pitcher.

"Nothing! It's nothing just a scrap of parchment, give it back!" She said her voice rising dangerously snatching the paper back.

"Jeez, what's up with you? All I did was ask a simple question and you bite my head off!" Ron replied, his own voice rising.

"It's rude to just steal other people's papers without asking!"

"I wasn't stealing! All I did was ask you what it was!"

"You should still have left it alone!"

"What's on that anyway? I bet it's something important! What does it say?" Ron asked leaning over to get a better look.

Taking a step back so he couldn't see it she yelled, "It's NOTHING!"

"It looked like a letter! Writing to _Vicky _again are we Herm-own-ninny?" Ron seethed, enunciating her name like Victor always did, wrong.

"It is NOT a letter to Victor! And even so I don't see how it's any of _your_ business who I'm writing to!"

"It could be a boy!"

"YES it could and VERY WELL MIGHT BE RONALD!"

"It is! You can't write to other boys!"

"And why not?"

"Because- because, because, they aren't good enough for you!" He sputtered.

The whole table who had otherwise ignored their argument as it was a daily routine they were used to by this point, now swiveled their heads towards the arguing couple and stared, shell shocked at Ron.

"What are all you bloody wankers looking at?" He roared.

The heads quickly swiveled back.

"Hermi-" he started.

"No, Ron. I know, you just don't want me to be happy! But it's none of your business what boys I'm writing to, IF I were even writing to any! And if I want to be interested in a boy, that's _my_ business! Merlin knows you and Harry are _always_ talking about girls! So why should it be any different with me?" She shouted, and with that turned on her heel and stalked out of the great hall.

"Well mate, you've really done it this time!" Harry said patting Ron on the shoulder.

"Who is it? I'm going to kill him!" Ron said angrily.

"Kill who?" Harry asked.

"Whatever boy she's taken a fancy to!"

"Ron, you're completely oblivious. Open your eyes!"

"What?" Ron asked his brows furrowed in confusion.

"If you don't know I'm not going to point it out to you!" Harry replied and went back to his toast.

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter again guys! And I've been noticing that I usually have a lot of mistakes in my writing, so if anybody wants to beta, that'd be great! Either email me, or tell me your review! And again thanks for reading!!

And a big thanks for reviewing to:

Remember Cedric Diggory- So happy I made you cry! Sorry for the awkwardness, tell me if it's anything here sounds awkward! And sorry for the shortness again, though this is a little longer! Longer in the future!

monaleoht- Thanks SO much for your review, I enjoyed it ALOT! It means a lot to me that people are actually crying! I really wasnt thinking that anybody was going to cry when they read it, because I didnt cry when I wrote it, my eyes might have gotten a little misty, but Im really glad you did! This chapter isn't as sappy though, but I hope you still like it!

moony128- What do you mean that Hermione has feelings for ONCE? Lol, do you mean like feelings besides anger? Anyways glad oyu liked it! This IS NOT i repeat IS NOT a one-shot! And it will be in letter form sometimes, but also in Peoples POV, like this chap was in Harry's, but it will mostly be Ron and Hermione's, and accasionally somebody elses just so you can see what it's like on the outside! Hope you liked this chapter!

(no name)- Thanks for reviewing! Glad you liked it, hope you like this chapter too!

Aylen-BrownEyez- That was exactly the interpretation I wanted! Lol pat on the back! Believe it or not, I wasn't really thinking about how sad it is when I wrote this, and it kind of surprised me when people told me they cryed! Lol! But I'm really glad you enjoyed it! This chap. wasnt as mushy!

Daggerquill- THANKS SO MUCH! I love that you love my style of writing! lol! Nobodys ever said that to me, so it means ALOT to me! So thanks A BUNCH! I hope you like this chapter too!

Lily106- LMAO! Not sure I understood your last comment, but it sounded HILARIOUS! Lol! Hope you like this chapter too!


	3. Love is maddening

"The ball will be held on New Years Eve, culminating promptly after we bring in the New Year," Dumbledore finished, sitting down gracefully and surrendering the podium to Filch.

"I should remind all of you troublemakers, that there will be very tight security after the end of the ball, to make sure there are no students out of bed. Punishment will be _severe_. Any students found out of bed will help Hagrid clean out the Hippogriff pen, which may I add, has not been cleaned in _quite_ a while," he said with a wide smile on his grimy face, allowing his yellow, crooked teeth to be in plain view and causing a few third year Hufflepuff's to snicker at the site.

"He's obviously taking a bit too much pleasure in this," Harry whispered to Ron, turning around in his seat to face back towards the table.

Ron nodded mutely in reply, but he wasn't looking at Harry. He was gazing openly at a certain bushy-haired bookworm down the table, who was talking animatedly to a couple of fifth years down the table, badgering them into buying S.P.E.W badges, no doubt.

"Why don't you ask her to the ball," Harry asked nudging him.

"After last year, she'd probably laugh in my face! I just _had_ to go and make a bloody idiot of myself," Ron said, his voice rising and getting louder and louder as he got more worked up. Harry tried to push him back in his seat, which he had vacated, and failed miserably, "I just couldn't let the bloody thing go! I don't even remember what the bloody argument was about! It was about some guy or another I got mad and flew off the handle. We were _dancing_, too! We were having such a nice time, then some wimpy Hufflepuff asks her to dance, and instead of just saying 'No' _for_ her, I have to go berserk and get all jealous! I'm just a bloody idiot who doesn't bloody know how to keep his bloody mouth shut," he ranted, by this time his voice having achieved yelling-volume.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out again in a loud sigh, his shoulders slumping as he sat down heavily in his seat, he reached toward the center of the table for an apple. He leaned back in his seat, and as he was polishing the apple off with the cuff of his right sleeve, he looked up and saw the majority of Gryffindor table staring at him.

"Er, Harry, is there something I missed," he whispered to him out of the side of his mouth, keeping his eyes on the people staring back at him, their eyes wide and their mouths open, at the same time.

"They're staring at you because you just broadcast to the entire hall that, let's see, what did you say again, oh yes, that you were a 'bloody idiot who doesn't know how to keep his bloody mouth shut.'

He lay his head down on the table with a groan, proceeding to pick it up and drop it again onto the wood of the table, resulting in a loud, deep, _Thud!_ sound every second.

"Ron," Harry said warily, grabbing a fistful of his hair at the back of his head and preventing him from banging it down onto the table, "get a hold of yourself mate! It's not that big of a deal, I'm sure people are used to your rantings by now."

Just at that _opportune _moment, Seamus came up. Patting Ron on the shoulder he said in a pathetic rendition of a sympathetic voice, "Cheer up mate, as soon as you realize it and admit your problem, you can start onto the path of fixing it."

"And just what _is _my problem," Ron asked angrily, bodily shoving Seamus' hand off of his shoulder.

Chuckling he replied, "Ron, Ron, Ron, I feel sorry for you. You don't even know what your problem is, you're so dense. I should just walk away and let you find out on your own, you'll get more, what was that thing Trewlaney said, self fullness, no, self fulfillment! Yeah, you'll get more self fulfillment out of it if you find out for yourself. But I'll take pity on you, because you're one of my treasured friends, and I care about you, look out for you, you know, because I'm such a nice guy, " At this Harry snorted, and Seamus shot him an ungrateful look before continuing. "So I'll tell you what your problem is. Your problem," he paused dramatically, "Is that, are you ready for this? Your problem is that there's some serious sexual tension going on between you and your chick over there."

"My chick," Ron questioned.

"Hermione. Your girl? The one you love? The one you stare at whenever you think nobody else is looking? The one you were just ranting about?"

"What? How do you know I love her? Who else has seen me stare at her? How do _you_ know what I was ranting about? Oh no," he said, his face paling as a new, obviously horrifying prospect dawned on him, "did everybody hear what I was ranting about? Does _everybody_ know that I love her now? What if _she_ knows! My life is ruined," he moaned, dropping his forehead to rest on the same place on the table it had just vacated and resuming his head-banging activities.

"Great, thanks," said Harry in a mock cheerful voice. "Now you've got him moaning and groaning again!"

Rolling his eyes Seamus slipped a hand under Ron's forehead to cushion his fall, and grabbed his shoulders, hauling him up to sit straight in his chair and making him look at him

"Mate, calm down. I didn't say _everybody_ knew," at this Ron tried in vain to bang his head on the table again. "Only the guys in our dormitory know, and a few girls, too," he broke off, cringing.

Seeing this Ron demanded desperately, grabbing Seamus' collar, "Like who?"

Seamus mumbled something inaudible.

"What? Didn't hear you, say it again," Ron said, his voice dangerously low.

"Lavender and Parvarti," Seamus said softly, wincing as Ron released him and cowering away.

This time, Harry anticipated it and grabbed the back of Ron's robes before his head reached the table. "How long have Lavender and Parvarti known Seamus," Harry asked calmly.

"At least a year."

"See Ron," Harry said, slapping him on the head as he did so to make him pay attention, "It's now so bad! If they were going to, they would have told her a long time ago!"

"Or they've _already_ told her," suggested Semus brightly.

Shooting him a withering look, Harry hissed to him as he struggled to keep Ron's head up, "Your not really helping!"

"Well fine then! I know I'm not wanted _here_ anymore," he said as he got up and stalked in the other direction.

Turning back to Ron, "Mate, don't worry, she _doesn't know,_" Harry assured him.

"How do _you_ know," Ron asked sulkily.

"Because she would have said something," Harry reasoned. "You know she would have, at least to Lavender or something, and Lavendar would have told one of us, or Seamus, and Seamus would have told us."

"I guess," Ron conceded, though clearly not convinced.

"Exactly."

"Oh my gosh, a ball." Lavender squealed painfully into Hermione's ear.

Wincing and rubbing it, she replied, in a much more subdued tone of voice, "Great."

"Aren't you excited," Parvarti questioned upon hearing her less than enthusiastic reply.

"No I'm not," Hermione replied indignantly. "I mean what's so special about them anyways? All they do is get your expectations up, and then something happens, and nothing goes right, and the ball is a horrible failure, and you're sad and depressed."

Shooting each other knowing looks they patted her arm and Lavender said soothingly, "Well maybe it will be better than last year this time."

"I doubt it," she said resentfully, adding in her head, _Considering the only person that I want to go with will never ask me. Oh no, I made sure of that last year when I had that ridiculous argument last time._

"Well is there anybody _special_ you want to go with," Lavender asked innocently.

"No," Hermione exclaimed, a little too quickly.

_Oh no, I hope they didn't noticed how quickly I said that!_

They did. Shooting each other another sly look, they trained their infuriatingly blameless gazes on her.

"Are you sure there's no special person? Say, oh I don't know, a redhead," Parvarti inquired leisurely.

"I do _not_ like R-" She broke off as she heard what could only be Ron yelling about something at the other end of the table. As she swept her gaze up the table to him, she noticed the majority of Gryffindor was staring at him, with his arms gesturing wildly, his hands pounding the table to accentuate a point, his face red.

She was able to hear over the clink of silverware and the chatter of students a few words. "I'm just a bloody idiot . . . doesn't . . . bloody mouth shut!"

She watched him slump down in his seat and grab an apple, completely oblivious to the strange looks everyone was giving him.

She sighed and turned away. She looked up from her buttering her toast and saw both Lavender and Parvarti staring at her suspiciously.

"What," she asked, alarms going off in her head.

"You just sighed," Lavender stated.

"Your point being?"

"I was just wondering if you sigh every time you look at him," she replied sweetly, feigning a look of innocence that Hermione didn't believe for a second.

"Every time I look at who?"

"Ron."

"What? I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione exclaimed.

"You looked at Ron. Then you sighed and looked away, with this _dreamy _look on your face," they said slowly, as if she were a toddler and they had to explain it to her.

"I did not," she protested, but her flaming face gave her away.

Exchanging meaningful looks, Lavender and Parvarti flounced out of the Great Hall, stopping to throw her a wink and the door before turning the corner.

Letting out a frustrated scream she dropped her head onto her arms. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! You really have to learn an Anti-Blush charm. Now they're going to think I like him! I mean I do, but I just don't want them to know. And it's just, Argh!_

Before she could continue her tirade she felt a tentative tap on her shoulder. Looking up she saw a third year boy behind her looking down at his hands.

"Yes," she asked.

"Umm, you were, um, talking to yourself, and I was just wondering," he said meekly, chancing a glance up at her face and quickly looking away again. "I was just wondering, if you were, um, okay."

"Great, just great, I'm going mental," Hermione groaned. Realizing the boy was still there she said quickly, "Yes, I'm fine, now go to your class before I take points away."

She watched the little boy scurry away then gathered her things and walked out the door towards her first class.

The weeks before the ball went by quickly from there. The majority of the school was staying to attend the ball and all the students were in a flurry of excitement while the teachers were in a flurry of homework. The girls flocked the hallways in large groups, talking excitedly about what each one of them was going to wear, tittering and blushing whenever a boy walked by, and squealing in excitement whenever a boy asked a girl in the group to the dance.

Hermione was thankful from being spared the chore of having to pick out new dress robes. She had decided as soon as the ball was announced that she would wear the light blue ones that she had picked up in Diagon Alley with Ginny that summer while staying at the burrow. And as for the tittering and blushing whenever a boy came by, well there was only one boy Hermione wanted to ask her, and, confident that he wouldn't, had put it from her mind and focused on the extra amounts of homework the teachers were doling out to make up for the break.

As the ball drew nearer and nearer, she watched both Harry and Ron become more nervous every day, both in their own ways. Whenever Harry was nervous, he would get very quiet and withdrawn, and whenever Ron was nervous, he became clumsy, and stuttered a lot when he spoke.

And though Hermione's Emotion I.Q. was far from being as high as her I.Q., it hadn't failed her notice that whenever she was around, or Ron was around her, he seemed to become increasingly nervous. Whenever he said something to her, or vice versa, he rarely said a sentence without stuttering, and if their hands so much as brushed each other's when one of them was reaching for a quill, his face got frighteningly red and he snatched it away as if burnt.

As much as she wanted to believe that these were signs that he felt something besides friendship towards her, or that he at least wanted to ask her to the ball, she firmly told herself not to get her hopes up, and chastised herself for even allowing herself to think these things.

_It will never happen and you know it,_ she told herself over and over again, but in vain. Because there was always, in her heart, the tiniest fluttering of hope, the tiniest glow, whenever he stuttered, or snatched his hand away.

And no matter how many times she mentally slapped herself, or put it to the back of her mind, she still harbored the desperate hope whenever he came up to her, or talked to her, that he would ask her out. But as the days became fewer and fewer before the ball, she finally accepted, in her whole heart, that he wasn't going to ask her to the ball, and that what she had thought of as nervousness, was just a slightly clumsier than usual Ron.

Accepting this fact of course, came with the realization that she didn't have a date to the ball. Although there was nobody else she wanted to go with, she nevertheless didn't want to go to the ball alone. Deciding quickly she needed to do something, she went through a list of boys that hadn't asked any girls to the ball yet, and weren't likely to. _Neville,_ she thought. _He won't ask anybody to the ball, and he's nice enough, and he's bound to say yes._

With this made up in her mind, she marched over to Neville and matter of factly asked him if he would accompany her to the ball. Too shocked to utter a real reply, he managed to squeak yes, and she nodded and marched back to her chair and sat down.

A few minutes later she heard a slight _A hem_ off to her side and looked up. She saw Ron standing in front of her chair, shuffling his feet and staring at his hands. As he looked up at her she noticed that his face was bright red. He opened his mouth, "Hermione-" he tried, but stopped as it came out a squeak. His face colored even more, if that was possible. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Hermione, I was er, umm, wondering something."

Her heart started to beat wildly, and she screamed at herself to stop getting her expectations up, and to remember that she already had a date. Upon this realization, her face went pale and she felt a deep sense of foreboding.

"Yes, Ron," she asked.

"I was, er, wondering, ifyouwouldgototheballwithem," he said in a rush staring intently down at his hands.

For a second she felt a fleeting sense of ecstatic happiness. _He asked me to the ball! He asked me to the ball!_ She canted in a singsong voice in her head. Then her mind came crashing down to the ground and she realized the not-as-pleasant reality.

_Oh no. Bloody hell no! Please no! Why couldn't he have asked me FIVE minutes before? I would have been free, I wouldn't have asked Neville to the ball, and we'd all be happy! Is there a hole anywhere that I can crawl into?_ She thought desperately for a way to get out of this, but Ron was blocking her path up the stairs, and she couldn't very well just sit there and not answer him.

Taking a deep breath she said, "Ron, I, I wish I could. Really! I really do, it's just, I, I'm already going with somebody."

"Who," Ron asked quickly, looking very morose.

"Neville," she replied softly staring down at her hands.

She looked up just in time to see him nod stiffly and start to walk off. Following him she said, "Wait, Ron please! I really do want to go with you! If you had asked me just-"

"No Hermione, it's ok. You don't have to try to make me feel better," and with that he walked up the stairs, slamming the door to his dormitory.

Hermione felt tears stinging the back of her eyelids, so she quickly picked up her books and ran up the stairs. She pulled the hangings tight around her bed, and then threw herself down onto her bed and cried herself to sleep.

She woke up with a pounding headache the next morning, wondering what she had done to get it. Then the memories of the night before came crashing down on her and brining forth a fresh torrent of silent tears. To make it worse, she realized with a deep sense of sorrow, that the ball was that night. A sudden wave of anger surged through her, and she decided that she would not cry anymore over this, that she would go to the ball that night, have fun, and not dwell on it.

That night Hermione came down the stairs to the dormitory with the other girls. Lavender and Parvarti giggled as they took Seamus' and Dean's arms. Neville stood waiting at the bottom next to Harry, who was staring up at her with a knowing expression piercing her in his eyes. She turned her gaze away guiltily and met Ron's. He was staring at her uncomfortably, and she turned away from him, too. She looked at Neville, squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and gave him as bright a smile as she could muster. She took his arm, leaning down a bit to do so, and walked out of the common room without looking back.

Hermione had more fun than she expected to. She felt pangs of sadness whenever she saw Ron, at the food table or on the dance floor dancing with other girls. She knew she was being a bad date for Neville, never listening to him and always making him repeat things, constantly stepping on his feet accidentally, though she by far wasn't a graceless dancer, and failing to even try to make conversation. But through it all he was a good sport, and patiently repeated everything he said to her, ignored the times she stepped on his feet, except to give her a small grin, and filling the gaps in the conversations.

Before she knew it, it was the last dance of the night, a slow song, and all the students were pairing up. She turned to Neville but she saw him regarding her with a curious look.

"Go ask him to dance," he said simply.

"Excuse me," Hermione asked giving him a perplexed look.

"Go ask Ron to dance," he repeated, waving off her explanations. "When you asked me to the dance, I knew you didn't like me. I know you like him Hermione, have for a while. Go ask him to dance. You've been watching him all night, no, no, I'm not mad! I know you want to, so just go and doing it. Besides if I'm not mistaken, I'd say that's him coming over here right now."

"Oh no, Colin! What do I do," Hermione cried stealing a quick glance behind her shoulder to confirm that he was indeed making his way towards her.

"Well turning around and saying hello would be a start," he replied and walked away.

Hermione quickly turned around, and came face to face with Ron.

"Ron, hi," she said, kicking herself for sounding breathless.

"Hermione," he replied solemnly.

She waited for him to say something, and then realizing he wasn't, decided it was up to her.

_What do I say? Ohh, what do I say,_ she thought frantically. Then, as soon as the idea came into her mind, she seized upon it without considering it again.

"Do you want to dance," she asked quickly, shocked at herself for having the nerve to do it.

"What," Ron exclaimed, his eyes widening.

"Oh, um, nothing, nevermind," Hermione replied, the bravery she had felt a few moments ago leaving her in the dust.

"Did you just ask me if I wanted to dance," Ron demanded.

"Yes," Hermione said meekly, staring at her hands.

She waited for him to say something, anything. She looked up at him and saw him staring at her with a hard expression. Her face colored and she turned around and took a step away.

_You idiot! What were you thinking, asking him to dance like that? What did you think he was going to say?_

"Yes."

She turned around slowly, not believing her ears

"What did you just say," she asked incredulously.

"Yes. Yes I will dance with you."

"Really?"

Ron nodded, sending shivers of excitement down Hermione's spine, and a wide smile to her face. He held out a hand and she gingerly took it, stepping with him onto the dance floor. Ron lay his hand tentatively onto her back, bringing her a step closer, and she wound her arms around his neck. It was all she could do to keep from falling, so dizzy was she from being this close to him. She met Harry's gaze over his shoulder, and smiled brightly when he gave her a knowing smirk.

The next three minutes were _heaven_ for Hermione. Being this close to Ron, being able to smell the soap he used, feel his broad shoulders beneath her arms, just _be _there, made her giddy and solemn at the same time. She wanted to dance with joy, and she wanted to pull his arms tighter around her and burrow her head into his chest at the same time. She lay her head lightly down onto his shoulder, sighing to herself when his arms tightened almost imperceptibly around her, pulling her a few inches closer. She drifted into a dreamlike state, letting her happiness carry her away, content just to be in his arms, even for this short time, even if it was just a dance.

10

She was startled out of her reverie by the loud cheers of the other students when the countdown began. Realizing that it was almost midnight, and then, realizing with a start, what people _did_ at midnight, she pulled away quickly, trying to get as far away from Ron as possible as fast as possible, so as not to be embarrassed later, only to find his arms still around her, and his eyes trained on her face, locking with her eyes when she looked up at him.

9

Her heart quickened, beating a furious rhythm inside her chest.

8

She tore her gaze away from Ron, and saw people moving torward each other all across the dance floor.

7

She saw Harry, across the floor determinedly avoiding Luna Lovegood's eyes.

6

She flicked her gaze back to Ron, to see him still staring at her, with a look in his eyes she couldn't quite decipher.

5

She wound her arms tighter around Ron's neck, taking a step closer as she did so, in a wild moment of recklessness.

4

She saw his eyes turn to a darker shade of blue, reminding her of the lake on the sweet summer days just before the end of term.

3

The music stopped, leaving just the shouts and cheers of the people around the hall echoing off the walls.

2

She should have noticed, but she was too caught up in Ron's gaze. If she had, she could have stepped to the side and avoided it, but she didn't.

1

The excitement escalated, and Hermione was oblivious to the happenings above her, aware only of the fact that Ron's face was coming closer to hers, or hers was coming closer to hers, or whichever, but that they were getting closer to each other, oblivious to what was brewing just above her head, until it was to late.

"NEW YEARS!"

Cheers went up around the hall, and Hermione's lips met Ron's for the briefest of seconds, not long enough even to be called a brush of the lips, before she felt cold, icy cold water drenched on her. Dripped down her robes, soaking her hair, and making her and Ron jump simultaneously apart.

A/N: Now people, before we bring out the pitchforks here, let's discuss this in a calm.. Hey! I see you there sneaking forward with that torch! SIT DOWN! In a calm, orderly, manner. You see, it's a story, right? So what fun would it be if they just got together? Hmmm. Now come on admit it, you'd go, "Oh that's a suck ending," if they just kissed right there, right? Besides I GAVE YOU a kiss! It may have been, "not long enough even to be called a brush of the lips," but too bad! That's all your getting! : P! And YES I know, it's after New Years, but DEAL WITH IT! Because I just sat down for like four hours straight at this computer to write you this nice long chapter, so be thankful!

Moony128: Heh, your reviews crack me up! I'll take that as a compliment, lol, no need to confuse you anymore. And yeah I know the hints are pretty big, but Ron wouldn't be Ron if he wasn't as dense, and Hermione wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't over analyze everything until she had convinced herself it meant nothing! I hope you like this chapter!

RonandHerm4eva: wipes a tear away You like me! You _really, really _like me! Lol, sorry! Thanks so much, I hope you like this chapter, too!

Unregistered-Animagus: Thanks so much! I love that you love my story, lol! By the way, I really like your name! Is it referring to the Marauders? If so, go inner Marauderness! Ya!

Legofiance: Thanks so much, I hope you like this chapter, too!

Isnani: Thanks! Did you like all the obliviousness I put in this chapter? Lol, I liked it. I laughed a couple of times writing this, and then I think I got a few tears there, too, lol!

X Odd Egg X: Omg thanks SO much for your review! I was telling all my friends about it, and I came back to it a bunch of times when I need inspiration, lol! This chap is unofficially dedicated to you, lol.

Suck4romance81789: Hey, I love your name, probly because I'm a sucker for romance, too, but SHH don't tell anybody! I tried to make this chapter less awkward, so please tell me what you think!

SinfulColors: Lol yes those stupid teenage hormones! But oh how amusing they are! Lol, mua ha ha! cough cough Sorry about that, I'm still a little out of it from last night.

Thanks to all my reviewers, and to everybody, REVIEW!! I did not sit in front of this stinking computer for four hours and get a humongous crick in my neck just to write a story that nobody reviews! So go review, NOW! . . . Please!


	4. Love Is In the Air

A/N: This is a VALENTINES chap, so SUE ME for not getting it up last week because guess what? I JUST WROTE IT! SO THERE! Take that you- vicious author-eating shark/humans!

Cheers went up around the hall, and Hermione's lips met Ron's for the briefest of seconds, not long enough even to be called a brush of the lips, before she felt cold, icy cold water drenched on her. Dripping down her robes, soaking her hair, and making her and Ron jump simultaneously apart.

The student body broke out in loud guffaws as Hermione and Ron stood in shock holding their wet robes away from their bodies and searching for the source of their sudden damp situation.

Hermione was the first to determine it had come from above. Looking above she saw the resident problem-making ghost of Hogwarts cackling merrily and obviously enjoying the site below him very much.

"PEEVES!" Hermione screeched.

"Ah, hello dearies! How are my two little lovebirds tonight?"

"What? Lovebirds," Ron sputtered, his face flaming. "Ha!"

Before Ron could say anything else Peeves floated off, cackling merrily, and a second later out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione run out the door, and if he wasn't mistaken, and his eyesight wasn't failing him, she was sobbing.

A less dense person, possibly even Harry, could have interpreted what this meant. But seeing as Ron had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, the meaning evaded him.

The next morning was, awkward, to say the least, between the two. When Hermione and Ron happened to reach for the same salt shaker, Ron pulled back so quickly that his elbow knocked over his goblet, and in getting up, Ron managed to upset a bowl of fruit laying by his other hand, sending it flying. The bizarre turn of events continued when the pear, previously flying through the air, landed on Neville's fork, sending said fork straight into Dean's face.

"Bloody hell," Ron groaned.

"You know Ron you should-" Hermione started to say.

"Should _what,_" Ron snarled.

Anger flashed across her face, but was gone before Ron was certain he had seen it, changing to a look of, almost, sadness.

"Nothing," she whispered and hurried out of the hall.

Later in the day when he tried to apologize, she ignored him, pretending to be too immersed in her notes.

Sensing that a simple apology would not do this time, Ron left her alone. Sitting up all night after the dance had made for some surprising revelations.

He'd known that he liked her, for a long time. He still remembered the exact moment he'd realized his feelings for one of his best friends stemmed deeper than friendship.

_Ron sat idly twirling a quill in his fingertips as he leaned back in his chair and tried to listen to what Hermione was going on about._

_"Ron! Are you even listening to me?"_

_He looked towards Hermione, holding a hand up and shielding his eyes against the sun blaring in the windows behind her._

_The sun shone down on her hair, giving a sort of halo around her head, and her face seemed illuminated. Ron's breath caught in his throat, and his heart seemed to skip a beat, then thud painfully in his chest, as if to make up for the lost beat._

_He stared- openmouthed, at her for Merlin knows how long, trying to process what his brain had just told him. What his heart had been telling him for so long, when he found his eyes straying in her direction more than they used to, and when his cheeks burned red whenever her hand accidentally brushed, but which he had steadfastly ignored for so far._

_He had been 13, and had just realized that he liked his best friend._

Now he was 17, and he realized he loved his best friend.

The next month and 13 days continued much the way the last day had, minus the spectacular food displays at breakfast.

Tensions continued to rise between Ron and Hermione, who still studiously ignored Ron the rest of the month. In the flurry of after-break assignments that followed, payback for actually having fun, and the busy schedule of Head and Prefect duties, and in between Quidditch, the pair had no trouble finding a reason to avoid each other.

The only difference was the fact that Ron spent a freakishly- for Ron- amount of time in the library. When he finally appeared out of the dark recesses of the library, he took to following around Muggle-Borns, and bombarding them with questions about Merlin knew what.

His strange behavior reached a peak when, on the morning of Valentines, he was at breakfast _early._

If anybody would have known what he was talking about, Harry would have used the Muggle phrase the phrase, "Call the presses!"

But since nobody would, he settled for being astounded. Shocked. Blown out of the water.

Wondering if this had anything to do with the strange behavior of his best mate of late, Harry shook his head and walked into the bathroom.

Just before the owl post came, Hermione was eating her porridge. Eating her porridge innocently, keeping to herself, doing absolutely NOTHING wrong. But of course some God, who was either PMS'ing, or probably having a crappy Valentines Day like herself, had to go take their troubles out on her.

And their troubles took the form of Colin Creevey. To be more precise, the form of Colin Creevey, standing in front of her, with a single yellow rose in his hand.

"Hi Hermione," Colin croaked, offering the rose, which was wilted and sad-looking.

"Uh- Hi, Colin. Can I help you," Hermione asked, a sense of foreboding pressing down onto her heart.

"Um, I was. .. wondering, wouldyougotothenextHogsmeadeweekendwithme?"

"Excuse me?"

Colin repeated it, looking down at his shoes, "Would you go to the next Hogsmeade weekend with me?"

"I- Well you see," Hermione trailed off, then rallied her Gryffindor courage and tried again. "I- I'm sorry Colin, but I'm, well, you see-" she stopped, hoping he would get the message and save her from having to say the rest.

"I see what," Collin asked a hopeful light in his eyes.

Sighing Hermione plowed on. "I, well, I can't. Because you see, I'm older, and, I would be uncomfortable."

"I'm very mature for my age," Collin offered.

"Yes, but you see, it just wouldn't work," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"Why not," Collin asked, looking hurt.

"Because."

"Because isn't a reason," Collin shot back childishly.

"Because I'm in love with somebody, okay," burst out of Hermione's mouth, before she could take them back.

Collin's face fell, and he nodded once, slowly, before trudging back to the other end of the table.

Just as she turned back to her porridge, the owl post came.

Expecting nothing, Hermione turned her face downwards and continued breakfast. Or tried to, until a large, brown school owl swooped down upon her.

The owl dropped the package, a large, brown parcel tied in string onto the table and flew off.

Not even waiting until she had a chance to untie it, the package sprang open, and a large red velvet heart flew off the table and into the air.

Clearing its throat it began to sing:

_**I've got sunshine on a cloudy day.  
When it's cold outside I've got the month of May.  
I guess you'd say  
What can make me feel this way?  
My girl (my girl, my girl)  
Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl).**_

Hermione's face burned as she stared, transfixed at the singing heart.

_**I've got so much honey the bees envy me.  
I've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees.  
I guess you'd say  
What can make me feel this way?  
My girl (my girl, my girl)  
Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl).**_

The heart began to gush forth red, white, and pink confetti. It flew into the air and fluttered down to earth, falling on Hermione's hair and everybody around.

_**Hey hey hey  
Hey hey hey  
Ooooh.**_

Hermione fell oblivious to the stares of everyone in the hall, and to the whispers and sighs of the girls around her.

_**I don't need no money, fortune, or fame.  
I've got all the riches baby one man can claim.  
I guess you'd say  
What can make me feel this way?  
My girl (my girl, mt girl)  
Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl).**_

_**I've got sunshine on a cloudy day  
with my girl.  
I've even got the month of May  
with my girl**_

As it finished the song, it gushed forth one last shot of confetti, as if to make a last stand, and fell through the air to land on Hermione's shoulder.

She looked down at the package and saw a charm necklace lying at the bottom of the package.

She lifted it up in, smiling widely when she saw the largest charm on the necklace, _Hogwarts, A History._

Underneath the necklace lay a note. It read simply: 

_This necklace will reveal who it was sent by only when the correct words are said._

_You know the magic words._


End file.
